The Reality That Is

Tonight’s moon is supposed to be the best moon of our lifetime. I initially thought that the  best moon of our lifetime happened a few moons ago but no, it’s tonight. Well, technically,  the early hours of tomorrow. It’s almost 1 a.m. when we arrive at the park by the airport. Someone on the internet had told you, and you later told me, that the best chance of catching  sight of the best moon would be right here, right now, in the only area of the city where  buildings aren’t allowed to graze the moon. We decide to make our way onto the beach that  isn’t really a beach so much as a slim arm of fake sand and fake rocks. This whole park is  fake. This whole area is. Waiting for the best moon of our lifetime, I tell you about the  woman who lives up there all alone except for her pet rabbit. This is hard for you to imagine.  You, who can make a line of code into a rainbow but cannot conjure an image of a rabbit  without also conjuring an image search bar. The thing about living in a city, even a fake one  built on fake land, is that you get so used to all the fakeness and find yourself beginning to  forget, and even preferring to forget, the reality that is: we are technically sitting in the  middle of the Pacific right now and there are blood-thirsty fish ready to devour our flesh but  it’s okay because we brought rice dumplings so the fish can eat that instead and leave us  alone, leave us to look at the best moon of our lifetime, forgetting or perhaps preferring to  forget the reality that is: we haven’t seen the moon in ages (see: the light pollution) and the  reality that is: we never go outside or look up anymore (see: the internet) and the reality that  is: it doesn’t matter if the moon you see is the best moon of your lifetime because you will  scroll on your phone later that day and see a better one beaming her moon face back at you  (see: @NASA) and it will be the best moon of all time even if you don’t want to see you  cannot deny the reality that is: life is way more beautiful in 4K.

Anyu Ching is a Singaporean writer and journalist based between Southeast Asia and wherever her soul flees to. Her work can be found at anyuching.com.